The Commission
by WriterWilf
Summary: In which Peter Pevensie and Aslan have a philosophical discussion on death during the aftermath of the Battle of Beruna, and in which Peter receives a commission.


**AN :Hello readers.**

**Looks like this will be my first story since I have basically gone through a clean-out on my account. I sincerely apologize. But I had seen a change in my writing and the way I have seen the world since those first days. And looking back on those writings was just too hard.**

**Thanks to Saturday101 and marmota-b for their awesome editorial work.**

**Here is to new beginnings. May Aslan's blessings be upon you all.**

**-WriterWilf**

**Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine. Don't sue. **

The Commission

The triumph at Beruna Fords had been a moment of joy at the time that it occurred. What once had been a battle that seemed to have been written in stone as defeat had completely changed tides within a matter of minutes. All with a sudden eruption of a roar that could be heard across all of Narnia, casting fear and awe in the hearts of all that heard it, and which sent the earth a trembling, as if it were a living creature that had heard a clap of thunder and was now trembling with fright.

All of the soldiers upon the battlefield who were able to looked from their opponents, to the highest cliff-face of the Ford; they glanced in the direction of the thunderous voice that had made itself heard above the cling of weapons and the cries of battle. Those who looked in that direction would have seen none other than the Great Lion himself. The King who was once thought to have been dead had somehow conquered it. Doing what once was impossible, and coming back to finish the gripping evil that had lasted for one hundred years. Casting it down like the rabble it was and in its place restoring the glory of Adam's Children and of the Great Lion himself.

If those on the battlefield managed to look beyond the Lion in all of his glory and splendor, they would have seen the heavens opening up and declaring the glory and might of Aslan.

Meanwhile, up in the skies above, Helios cast his yellow rays of warmth upon the golden-tawny fur of the magnificent Aslan. It was a moment which had, up until that moment, never occurred in all of Narnia's history. Throughout most of history, since the beginning of time and the day that Aslan had wrought him into existence, Helios was used to being the one who had a herald run out in front of him. That herald being his sister Eos, the Morning Dawn. Before he set forth in his chariot across the world expanse, she would announce his arrival through rosy-pink light and casting droplets.

The Centaurs, long held as revered prophets and stargazers, and whom would later be studying the travels of the sun on that day to see if there would be any spatial recognition to the event, will vouch for this simple truth. For the first time that could ever be recorded in history, Helios was the one who was being the herald of the world. Not only did the sun shine down upon the High King of all High Kings, but it seemed as though up until that moment, the world had had a curtain over it. A curtain that had held the world in a darkness which no one knew it was under the influence of until the moment of awakening. In that moment, when Aslan approached with all His might, with a new victory lying beneath His paws (which had been considered only a possibility of legend), it was as if He was telling Helios to throw back the curtain and announce the defeat of darkness. And to let the sun beam down upon the entire world, so that all could see the might and majesty of what had occurred. It was time for night to end. It was time for morning to begin.

Aslan charged onto the battlefield, with his reinforcements following close behind. In a wave as monstrous as those which crash against the ledges of Cair Paravel, they rushed forward. They cast enemies down on all sides. Shouts and whoops of victory filled the air, and screams of confusion and mayhem were sewed in with these triumphal cries as the Witch's forces found themselves uncertain what to even do. Those who were not killed were either driven to the hills or brought to their knees begging for mercy. And the White Witch herself, the Tyrant for a century, a form of cold abusive evil incarnate, who dazzled with beauty that could be said to belong to a white serpent, and who kept all of her subjects in check through cruelty and malice; this Witch was ultimately cast down from her mighty pedestal. The wretch who dared to blaspheme the name of Adam and Eve had been thrown down once and for all. The one who had dared to call herself the Queen of all, had finally been shown to her proper place. The agenda which she had kept in mind, to seek rule only for herself at the price of the suffering of others, had proven to be her downfall when she thought she had conquered the King by stabbing him in the heart. A motion he allowed her to do despite the temptations so that one he loved would not have to suffer such a consequence. Through His sacrifice, the innocent had purged all the wrongs committed by the guilty. Love had conquered the grave. The grip death had over all the world had been subdued.

And Narnia was free at last. After one hundred years of cruel winter.

Unfortunately, the victory did not come without its losses.

As Peter glanced about the battlefield and watched as the Narnians brought their fellow comrades to Lucy to be healed, and saw Aslan move about the battlefield to restore all those who had been turned to stone, he also noticed a third party at work on the battlefield. This party was in charge of gathering up bodies that appeared as though they were limp and unmoving. He watched as they gingerly but carefully handled these bodies. Often two Narnians at a time carrying a body between them.

The closer of these two groups consisted of Orieus, Mr. Tumnus, and a couple of Leopards. The Leopards would walk ahead of them, serving as scouts. Whenever they found a body that was of a Narnian soldier, they would summon Orieus and Mr. Tumnus. The two Narnians, between the two of them would pick up the body. Looking at them, one would have thought it would be difficult work, considering the differences in heights between Orieus and Mr. Tumnus. But the two managed to handle the situation. Orieus kept an unreadable expression on his face, but the one on Tumnus' was more plain to see. There was a look of sadness and a look of disgruntlement as he gingerly lifted the body. Sometimes holding the upper-body, other times holding the bottom.

Peter continued to watch them as Orieus and Mr. Tumnus carried the body over to a line of bodies that they had already stretched out. There were approximately ten of them so far. A couple of them were Fauns, one was a regular orange-colored Tiger who had fought in their army; three of them were Red Dwarfs, there was a Gray-Fox, a Badger, and two Rats. All of them lay still upon the ground. They did not so much as even move a muscle, blink an eye, or even take in a breath...

It didn't take Peter long to put together that they were among the Narnians that must have perished during the battle.

He had known that there were going to be dead. He was more than familiar with the concept of death and war back in Finchley. Even though Mum tried not to talk about it, the whispers on the radio and the stories printed on the front pages of the newspapers were always a constant reminder of how many deaths had happened due to such-and-such an incident. One of his good friends, Daniel Windsor, had actually lost his father during one of the air-raids that had first hit London. Another friend of his, Neville Cottonfield, had a mother who had been serving as a British spy over in Germany. Unfortunately, the Germans had caught up to her and killed her. He had been to both of the funerals. Seeing the bodies then was unbelievable. They didn't look like they were dead at all. Just sleeping. Except they were so still that it seemed they would never wake up.

However, this was much different from those times. When he had been to the funerals, both of the bodies had been handled. Anything that could have been hidden was done as such. At that very moment, it was much easier to tell that they were dead. For one, the wounds were much more visible. A lot of them were too gruesome for Peter to really describe, but there were some bodies that had blood spattered on them. One of the Dwarfs was missing a leg. Another Dwarf looked like it had an axe-head buried into it at one point.

It made Peter sick looking at it. Memories of Edmund and him pretending to be knights who stormed into the fray of a raging battle surged to mind. In those make-believe games, they brandished their swords proudly. They slew their enemies down right and left.

Those were all just games though. This was a reality that had been set before him.

And Peter hated this reality.

The bodies that were being brought over and set down in a line were once his soldiers. He didn't recognize all of them, if any. With approximately five thousand troops, it was hard to pick out and discern faces from the crowd. But at some point during the days he had been with the army, he must have passed them. Perhaps even spoken with them. Those Dwarfs, didn't he talk with them and their families? Those Rats, didn't they once bow and vow to stand by him no matter the size of the battle?

Maybe he was thinking of other Dwarfs or other Rats. Did that really matter though? They were just as much, for lack of a better term, people just as he or Edmund, Susan, and Lucy were.

As if in answer to his question, a voice that was rich with might and gentleness spoke, "This is the first time you have seen the spoils of war for what they truly are." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

The eldest Pevensie turned to Aslan. Just like the Lion's voice, the face of the Lion was both mighty but gentle. The Great Lion, as deadly as ten times the number of armies that had been fighting at the foot of the cliffs of Beruna Ford, was also loving and tender as a mother or father with their child. A combination that one would rarely think went together. And even if at all possible, a difficult and rare occurrence to come by.

Then again, as it had just been proven, Aslan had a way of doing what was considered the impossible and defying odds.

Peter sighed. "I have seen people who have died because of war." He looked down at his feet. "Back home, in my world."

He looked back up, and saw that Aslan was waiting patiently for him to continue. Despite there still being the remains of a battlefield around them, the Lion chose to console the oldest Pevensie in a time of horrible realization. "But I will be honest, Sir," Peter says carefully, "I had thought that when we first came into Narnia, we would all be getting away from the death."

"What man expects and what unfolds are hardly ever the same."

Peter glanced at the bodies. "That could have been Edmund," he said, indicating the bodies. "He could have been among them. He nearly was, if it hadn't been for Lucy."

"Yes," Aslan confirmed honestly.

Peter looked at the bodies once more. "They went to battle, and were killed."

"They knew that death would be a possibility when they joined the army," said Aslan soothingly. "Before every Narnian swore to join and fight, they had to first look into their own hearts to see if they were willing to lay down their lives for this cause. And I too looked into their hearts to see. The ones in whom I saw the willingness to I gladly welcomed. Those who were not, I gently told them of a different course. For what was about to be undertaken would require no small amount of courage." He pauses for a moment to let the words sink in. "They all went to battle knowing the consequences. Yet they chose to fight anyway. Because they knew there was something worth dying for. Something that was bigger than they."

Peter thought for a moment. "Aslan? Why them? Out of all of us? Why were they ones who died? I am not ungrateful that we were the ones who lived, but it doesn't make sense. Why not I? Or my family? Why do some people go on and live and others are taken?"

"There are reasons behind everything that are very difficult to understand for those who are limited in their understanding due to being a part of the material world. Your world. You can ask why over and over, and still never find an answer. For the answer itself lies not in a material form, but in a form which can only be understood as time goes on and experience is gained."

"I'm not sure if I understand or not."

"Experience comes in time, Son of Adam. One day, you will understand."

Peter figured that there was not much more he was going to get in terms of an answer. Instead, he turned to the bodies, and said, "They gave their life for their country. So that others may have a chance at what they could not have. My siblings and I will make sure they and their families will receive full honor for what they have done. It's the least that we can do."

"And they, to be sure, will be most grateful."

"There is one thing I don't understand that I do really want to know."

"And what might that be, Son of Adam?"

He judged by the Lion's voice that the Great Lion already knew. And that the question was not for the Lion's own sake, but for his own. To help bridge a gap in awkward silence that surely would have followed had there not been one.

"Do you remember when I first spoke of the Deep Magic, Peter? And how it is above any that live in Narnia?"

"It defines right from wrong," Peter said, he felt the words come back to him. "And governs all of our destinies."

"Yours, and mine," confirmed Aslan, like a father who had heard his son recite an important lesson he had told him previously.

Peter searched his mind for a few moments, trying to figure out how to best phrase the next question. When he finally had it, he said, "Aslan. You were dead."

"I was."

"The Witch, she killed you."

"She had."

"But you're alive."

"I am."

"I don't understand."

"The Witch knew of the Deep Magic. Which had been instated at the Dawn of Time. Which had stated that all traitors, no matter how terrible the treachery, belonged to her. They were her property, and she was free to do with that property as she desired. Treachery demands to be paid. Justice demands that it be so. But there was Magic deeper still. And the Witch would have known, had she thought to look further back, before Time had even begun. Where there was a Magic that states that whomever offers up their lives in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack, and death itself would be denied."

Peter turned hopefully to the bodies. "Will it work for them? They were innocent."

"Were they?" asked Aslan, like a teacher who questions a student during a lesson to get them thinking.

Once again Peter was confused. "Well, none of them betrayed like Edmund, did they? They all basically laid their lives down for us. Wouldn't it work for them?"

"Yes," Aslan responded gently. "They will be very much alive."

"Why are they not alive then?" Peter started to feel a little nervous. Surely Aslan must be getting annoyed with him because he didn't understand. There was still tons of things to be done, and yet here he was, answering the questions of a boy who was about to become a king of a kingdom which he didn't even really deserve.

Aslan however remained patient. He was not angry or frustrated. Not only was he calm, but also kind. As though he were going over a school lesson. "Son of Adam. My death has done what once was thought impossible. Not only did it reverse my own death, it also reversed the deaths of all. So that he or she who believes in me will not perish, but have life everlasting. But not the kind of life that you are thinking of. You are thinking of the life in the flesh. In your body. Which is not life at all, but death to those who choose to remain in the flesh. There are far greater things than can be imagined here."

Peter shook his head. "I'm not sure I understand."

"My sacrifice has created the greatest paradox the world will ever know, and one which will go on until the very end of this world's days. One that courses through all worlds who have had the blessing of witnessing its occurrence. Your very own world is among the blessed. For your world knows (just like the beloved world in which the land of Narnia resides in now does) that living is to die, but to die is to live. And by dying, you become more than was perceived. But in living, you become a slave to your own demise."

Peter looked at the bodies. "Do you mean that, they are alive now. In some other place?" He thought for a few moments. "Like, Heaven?"

Aslan smiled. "It goes by many names, Son of Adam. That is merely the name you call it in your world." The Lion then looked out upon the battle. "There are some things you will not understand until the time is appropriate."

"I'm still not sure I fully understand."

"One day, Son of Adam, you will. Truth is given to those who seek it in time. And often in ways that are not to be expected."

Before more could be said on the matter, the Lion then did something that the eldest Pevensie did not expect. He walked up to him, and opened his mouth. Not in a threatening way though, even though the glance at the pink tongue, the keen teeth, and the powerful jaws sent Peter shivering. The shivering of fright came to halt though when a breath came rushing forward onto him. Within a second, it was like warmth had started spreading all over his body. And he felt as though he had just woke up for the first time. Pleasant chills ran down his spine, and a tingling filled his fingers and toes as the warmth circulated through him. In a matter of moments, Peter felt like he was something new.

Aslan smiled warmly. "This is my blessing onto you, Peter, Son of Adam," he says. "That you be the carrier of my will upon your shoulders. Through you and all else who receive this gift, you will be the keeper of my will, and serve as a mirror reflecting my Light. And to you, I will give the keys to my Kingdom."

Peter's mouth opened in shock. He wasn't sure what to say. Nor was he exactly certain if he understood what had just happened. He knew that he had been given a blessing and a duty. But what either consisted of, he was still uncertain of.

"The Breath I give to the people turned to stone is the same that I have given to you," Aslan said. "With this Breath, I have turned you from stone and into a living soul. There is plenty of my Breath to go around though. It is a commission I wish for all to feel. For it is not meant for just one, but all. Go out and carry my Breath to those who need it, to the poor who have nothing to eat nor home to call their own, to the sick who feel nothing but pain in their body, mind and soul, and to the weak who are desperate for a voice and a reason to be strong; set the captive and the slave free from their bonds, bring sight to the blind and sound to the deaf, for the soldier who feels lost and alone, the pilgrim who seeks a new beginning, and to all who have lost someone they loved.

"Take the Breath and instill it in them. Show those who are stone that there is hope in life and love."

* * *

"Come, follow me. And I will make you fishers of men."

_-Matthew 4:19_

"I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loose in heaven."

_-Matthew 16:19_

"For to live is to be like Christ, and to die is even better."

_-Phillipians 1:21_


End file.
